marbled eyes

i’ve accounted for each last
hour spent in every day but
during the recount of lost
days i wandered off and
have been dropping dead
n’ some bread crumbs
along lit path ever

thumpin’ head ‘gainst week old
loaf of dried out marble rye,
lips all pinched up
in wince.



Fence Post (Please Don't Feed the Children)

mornin’ pasture’s proud
parade of posts

stretched out widespan
o’ barbed fishnets

to keep circlin’ scourge
off hallowed land,

flashback to feedin’ all the
farmer’s kids here, bare
from a happy

‘neath tireless roast of
heaven’s friendly

strolls ‘long gravel road
into lowest of the
saggin’ clouds

all’s grown here
for my lone

image: pixabay


Call of the Paper Dolls

cardboard cutout
mail order

arrives in mail,
painted rose only on
only finished

doll comes with bulging bust
duster and some vile attachment
calibrated for my worst detachments
and maximum suck thumb n’
weep enjoyment,

but it’s all one big sloppy kiss
with denial’s bitch anyway,
now ain’t it?



Father Breaking Fever

fever’s taken
another father,

a shriveled mushroom cap
at feet of lucid son

on tended plot
of savage

man gifted a thirsty puppy
only to stomp big cleated
feet, all over poor boy’s
pink n’ sweet

chain links recede like gums
as bedpost notches

treacheries roll their
tread all over old,
paved skin

smudged eyeglass
shakes in fist,

JD and grit, stirred
in with chewed
up grass

oh how the bottomless
flask drains light of its
glimmer, n’ fast,

but son, all’s
not past.



Violent Mist (Whiskers at my Window)

funny how all the targets
i once shook my swords at
now shake their heads
n’ hurts at me,

like i’m lonely beacon
atop some tangled
hurtin’ tree,

metal spears, and violet
sheers rain thorns but tears
rest tucked in eyes’
hind pocket,

stored cozy for next break
in night sky’s ungodly



A Nose-Dive Unglorified

ever nose-dive without
lookin’ below?

guess if you had, and things
had landed bad or worse
you’d never really
even know,

but we’d know, and we’d be left
with the messy messes, second guesses
and riddes left by a dive
so graceless,

and we’d be left kneelin’ at dusty
chair at next party without
your gratin’ laugh and
you here, alive

and true.

and though it may sound harsh n’
brash to you, i’d rather not
get stains on these
suede shoes,

would you?



Bird's Eye Bluff (Feathers n' Fluff)

to vision, my sunsets are
gettin’ shorter and the
lines to see her
grow longer

long spanning cliff’s craggy
crest to my rocky

cloud’s cotton sorta slows
the plummet, batting wings
like a feathered idiot,

fine in the head though
beak’s a little jagged,
call the crooked crows n’
come peck at my lids